A silly poem for kids about aliens
Anachron’s Arrival
Anachron lives on a far away planet.
That planet, Anachronians, they call it Janet.
Janet the planet is terribly gusty,
half of it’s musty; the other half dusty.
Sand storms and dust storms and mud storms oh my!
It sounds like a place where you’d visit then die.
So it’s no wonder then, the Anachronians flew
on spaceships away from that place with no blue.
To our world, a place that is luscious and green,
with waters the bluest that they’ve ever seen.
For all lakes on Janet are yellowy-orangish,
and redishy-brownish and greyishy Boron-rich.
And the forests are all gone on Janet, it’s quite sad.
We know just what went wrong; life, it’s quite bad.
So the Anachronians came and they wanted to stay…
so we let them touch down just outside of Palm Bay.
Anachron’s Announcement
It wasn’t too long, after the Anachronians landed
that they wanted to chat, it was in fact, demanded.
Anachron was their leader; it introduced itself quickly
to a group of world leaders, looking really quite sickly.
Then it hustled away, back up into its spaceship.
Was that it? The world wondered. It had been a long trip…
Then the whole world watched as the Anachronian crew
blasted back into the sky and beyond the blue.
To a planet more yellow, a world more like their own.
To Venus — just one orbit over they’ve flown.
Now they live over there and what do they do?
They complain, and not just about Venus, Earth too!
They complain that our oceans are really too clean,
our beaches too sparkling, our forests, too serene.
But they can’t breathe our air; not enough Argon you see.
So they just sit there, on Venus, as cranky as can be.
Anachron’s Apology
Every one or two years, the Anachronians send
a short-wave transmission, 2 seconds start-to-end.
With only two words the same two every time.
And they rhyme; who’d have thought? Or close enough that it’s fine.
These two words every person on Earth has now heard,
and roughly half believe next year there’ll be a third.
And the two words our Venusian neighbors choose to say,
over and over each year in the same sort of way
are the same two little words we say to our mothers,
when we’ve done something rotten to one of our brothers.
The same two little words our sisters might hear
just before or after they’re told “Be a dear.”
Just two tiny words; the words of a child.
A child from outer space, on a planet so wild.
On Earth these two words they cause all kinds of worry,
since the message is always the same: “Very Sorry.”
